Mom shows up with a boatload of cleaning supplies in her shopping bags. “Now that we are the proud new owners of 715 Clarks Lane, it’s time to clean house.”
Oh joy.
For the next few days, we clean. New house excitement jitters have been replaced with the constant smell of bleach up my nose and sore knees from scrubbing every inch of floor.
“Mom. We’ve gone over every nook and cranny. My hands and knees are exhausted from all this cleaning, and I feel like Cinderella! All I’m lacking is a handsome prince who shall come and rescue me and carry me off to his tall tower.”
“Carry you…really?” My mother’s voice cuts into my wishful thinking.
“This is my fairytale, yes, carry me,” I answer, but she’s already walked away. Once again, I’m in my own La Land.
We chase each other up the endless number of stairs in the tallest of tall castles to my room, me in my blue flowy dress and he in his athletic shorts and shirt? What? I carry on, waltzing like a sprite to the antique wrought iron table with two chairs. I sip on a frothy cappuccino and gaze out at the shining peaceful waters of the lake and watch the beautiful swans swimming around as my guy waltzes around me in his athletic wear. Who knew Air Jordans would show up in a musical? JuneBug strums her magical harp in the corne, a flannel-clad angel with her tarnished halo as she plays dreamy, angelic music. It is all so romantic…
“Katie!” (clap, clap).
“Whhatt?” I flop over on my back and lay spread eagle on the cool, kitchen floor, clean as spit shine.
“Cinderella? Really? Besides, have you forgotten?” She jumps up to her feet. What the F? My mom is dancing some kind of weird jig. “We are now proud homeowners! We bought this house!”
I look up from the floor and give her a very tired thumbs up. “No, Mom. You bought a house. And You did a darn fine job of it.”
She looks at me with a real smile I haven’t seen in way too long. “You’re right. I did. Let’s go to the kitchen and have some Arnie Palmers! I’ll make us some real lemonade with a splash of tea…Sit tight, Katie.”
“Hello! Anyone home?” A deep voice calls from the front of the house. I groan. Handsome Jack’s back.
Mom claps her hands and grins like a little girl. I give her a look. “Seriously?”
She totally ignores me and wipes her sweaty neck with a paper towel. “It’s Jack!” She races across the floor and whips open the front door.
Jack stands outside in his hard hat and a toolbelt. It’s like I’m stuck in a cheesy romantic movie. Mom gasps from across the room. This would be hilarious if it weren’t so cliché.
“Jack. Come in. I was just making some lemonade.” She’s all breathy and weird.
“Sounds delicious.” I glare at him over mom’s head, and he winks back at me. “Heard y’all are looking for a handyman.” He’s really laying on the charm with that Southern accent.
“Isn’t that what you two talked about just yesterday?” I answer drolly.
He ignores me and takes mom by her elbow. “You said you wanted a more thorough looking over, of the house?”
I cut in, walking up behind them. “Well, it’s a done deal, we already…”
Mom, who has been standing in silent ogling of Jack’s hand on her elbow, takes a deep breath, sticks out her girls, and interjects, “Now, Katie, the man has a job to do. Let him do it.” She lays her other hand on his forearm. “About that lemonade, it’s freshly squeezed.” Oh, please, let me die on the spot. Mom sounds sex-starved, and I wish she’d quit giving him such come-hither looks from beneath her lashes. She’s not as innocent as I thought!
Jack peers down at my mother’s.. lemons… “Sure, I love lemonade.”
If Mom notices his ogling, she ignores it. I give him my best glare, but it seems he only has eyes for my mother, who won’t stop batting her lashes.
I can’t take this ridiculousness. “Mom. You alright? You got something in your eye?”
She slaps her hand on Jack’s arm and throws her head back in laughter. “Oh, Katie, you’re so funny!” She turns back to Jack. “Come this way. We’ll start our little tour in the kitchen.”
With mom chattering on like a squirrel (much to my embarrassment) I decide Mr. Hunky Handyman is harmless enough. I leave the two of them to traipse through the house.
I can’t believe the show mom is putting on—like a woman who doesn’t know her way around a house and household dangers.
I look away when mom grabs him by the bicep to make sure he doesn’t fall down the stairs to the basement in the dark. “A person can’t be too careful you know,” she sings.
She follows along behind him down the stairs, chattering away. Eventually they come back up, and the tour is over. I think my mortification is done, but then Jack leans on the doorframe, looking down at her with his hard hat tipped as rakishly low as his voice. “If there’s anything that needs repair, just let me know, Audrey, and I’ll see what I can do.” He slips his card into her hand.
“Thank you, Jack. That is most generous of you.” Mom stands guard at the doorway, watches him walk away, and shuts the door long after his truck backs out of the drive.
“Jeez, Mom. You’d have thought he was your long-lost love going off to war.” My comment gets no answer. “Mom?” She leans against the door and faces me. “Mom?”
Slowly, she steps into the light. Her cheeks are all rosy and pink. A hand lays across her chest. “Lord, love a duck, but that is one fine specimen of a man. Your father never had muscles like that. No sir.”
Hard-wood floor swallow me whole. “Okayyy?”
“Katie, I’m your momma, but I’m also a woman. I’ve been true to your dad since the day I said I do, but your dad left. And I ain’t blind. My eyes work just fine. Besides, men don’t mind being fawned over, especially when they show up in a hard hat and a toolbelt. My, oh my.”
Words fail me. All I can do is stare, until she claps her hands. “Well. That’s done. On to the next item on the agenda.” She points two pointer fingers at me with her thumbs up? “We’re goin’ gun shopping.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Jack told me where to look, too. We’ll need two, one for me and one for you.”
“Shiver me timbers, woman. Why you could knock this long, tall lumber jack over with a feather.” Guns make me think of westerns, my grandpa’s favorite movies.
“What did you just say?” She shakes her head. “I swear, Katie. Can you try to talk like a normal girl?”
I tip my imaginary hat in her direction and follow up with a thumbs in my pockets stance, spreading my fingers wide on my thighs. “No, ma’am. My imagination dictates otherwise.” A strange clicking sound comes from my runaway tongue. “You’re the one lookin’ for the guns.” I wink at mom. “My flowery language livens up ordinary, everyday life.”